Everybody's Son Read online

  Anyway. It was done. Almost done. He had gotten Juanita Vesper to see what he saw so clearly. He had painted a picture of what he could do for her son. And to give the woman her due, she appeared to get it. The magic word had been “college.” When he’d said that he could afford to send Anton to whatever college he chose, anywhere in the country, he had heard her involuntary gasp, and her eyes had shone with a sudden light. He felt a begrudging respect for her then. Did she know how much one year of a good college cost? he’d asked her, and she’d shaken her head. When he’d told her, she’d said, “That’s more money than I earn in three years.”

  And so he had pressed home his advantage. Told her that Anton was now taking piano lessons, was on the swim team, had excelled in science class. That he could take French in high school if he wanted. She had listened to him with her mouth open, as if hearing a fairy tale.

  But she was still unsure, resistant to the idea of losing her son forever, and even though he understood her resistance and respected her for it, it made him impatient. And afraid. So he had said it. Said the cruel lie even though each word was like hitting her in the face with a mallet. He could literally feel her absorbing each blow, reeling from it, getting weaker and weaker. He persisted because a strange thing happened—the more he spoke, the more he believed what was coming out of his mouth. If a lie could ever be the truth, then this was it. And when he was done, she disappeared behind her own face, was swallowed up whole, and the devastation he’d wrought was so perfect that he had to look away. He stared at the ceiling, not daring to look in her direction, and finally, after God knew how long, she whispered something he didn’t catch. When he looked at her, she nodded quietly and said she’d think about what he’d said, think about it real serious. That she wanted what was best for her Anton. And then she thanked him again for what he was doing to help her son.

  David turned his head slightly to gaze at his wife. He was glad that Delores had been asleep by the time he’d gotten home. She would have picked up on his agitation, and he didn’t want to answer her questions tonight. If Delores ever found out what he’d done, she would leave him. Of this, he was sure. And there was always the chance that Juanita would not give up Anton without a fight. David had to step lightly now, find a way via long distance to keep up the pressure on Juanita until she actually turned custody over to the state. Perhaps Connor, with his vast contacts in Children’s Services, would know how to proceed? Or should they simply give Juanita a few days to think things over and allow her to make the first move? The woman had seemed nearly convinced by the time she got back into the van, she really had.

  David rolled carefully onto his side. He stared at his wife’s face, which even in repose carried the sadness that had claimed it from the moment she had found out about James. Closing his eyes, David imagined what it would be like to have Anton with them forever. Would the promise of that permanence finally wipe some of that anxiety off Delores’s face? Or would it create a new anxiety? Fostering a child had mostly been his idea, but tonight he was suddenly unsure why Delores had acquiesced. Had she agreed only to please him? Or was having a child in the house something she also desired for herself? David sighed. How was it possible to love Dee as much as he did and yet not know the answers to these basic questions? He remembered the awful days immediately following James’s death. He had needed his wife so desperately to keep him from going under. And Dee had been there for him, she really had. But when he’d tried rescuing her back, she had spurned him, walled herself off. Something new—a formality, a guardedness—had crept into their marriage.

  He would be so much more careful with Anton. With James, he hadn’t been vigilant enough. The two boys and their dates had eaten at their house before leaving for the prom, an elaborate steak dinner that Delores had prepared. David had taken several pictures of the four of them, kids he’d known their entire lives, looking hilariously adult and heartbreakingly young in their tuxedos and gowns. And just before they left for the prom, he had made James promise not to drink and drive. Stupid, stupid him for not thinking about the other drivers out on prom night.

  His left leg began to twitch, and he forced himself to take some deep breaths. A new beginning, he said to himself, and the thought comforted him enough that he said it again. A new beginning. A new beginning. Please, God, a new beginning.

  And with that, David Coleman fell into a fitful and troubled sleep.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It took Juanita three weeks to make up her mind to relinquish custody. David could scarcely believe the news when he got the phone call from a caseworker at Children’s Services. Before hanging up, he broached the subject of a permanent adoption, and the woman at the other end of the phone sounded pleased.

  Anton was over at a friend’s house, so David broke the news to Delores soon after he got home, careful to leave out the part about adoption.

  “I don’t understand it,” Delores kept repeating. “Something must’ve happened to that poor woman in jail. I mean, why would a mother willingly give up her child? It doesn’t make sense, David.”

  He grimaced. “That’s what addiction does, honey,” he said. “It dulls even the maternal instinct. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times.”

  “I mean, I don’t know how much she knows about how Anton is doing.” Delores’s voice was incredulous. “What if he was unhappy with us? How could she abandon him like that, without even making an effort to see him?”

  “Well, she did it once, didn’t she? Abandon him?” He heard the strange, harsh note in his own voice. “You think a few years in the slammer will change that?”

  Delores turned to him, shocked. “This news is going to break the little fella’s heart. So what do we do?”

  David focused his pale blue eyes on a spot beyond his wife’s shoulder, afraid to look her in the face. “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

  Delores sighed and reached for his hand. “To tell you the truth, I was looking forward to getting our life back,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong—I’ve grown very fond of Anton. I don’t regret what we’ve done to, you know, help him. But it’s hard, taking care of someone else’s kid. And we are not spring chickens anymore. Know what I mean?”

  His heart hammered so furiously that he felt light-headed for a moment. Was Dee going to fight him on this? After all the strings he’d pulled, the hurdles he’d overcome? Somehow he had not stopped to entertain this possibility.

  Delores was looking at him, waiting for him to answer. “What would you like to do?” he said, hearing the tightness in his voice. “Have him be shunted from one foster home to another?”

  Her head shot up and her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “Don’t you dare lay this on me, David. It was your idea to go down this road. And as always, I went along, just to make you happy. In any case—”

  “Wait, what? You did it to make me happy?” David felt his face flushing, felt a muscle work in his jaw. “You have some gall, Dee. I did this for you. For us. Because I thought—foolishly, as it turns out—that having a child in the house would—” He cut himself off, frightened by the look on Delores’s face.

  “Would do what, David?” Dee’s voice was low. “Bring James back? Help me forget my only son? Erase the memory of my James in that coffin? What did you think would happen just because you brought a stranger into my house? And now you want me to do what? Kiss your ring in gratitude?”

  He stared at her wordlessly. “This is how you feel? After all this time?” he finally whispered. And then, louder, “If this is how you felt, why the hell did you say yes? I never . . . I would’ve never done this thing if you’d objected.”

  She spat out a laugh. “Did I say yes, David? Did you even ask me if this is what I wanted? I mean really ask me? Or did you just assume what was best for us?”

  He turned his back on her, afraid that he was going to cry. He picked up the small jewelry box on their dresser and set it back down absently, trying to gather himself. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. �
��I—I had no idea. You must’ve resented me so much these past two years.”

  “David.” Delores sighed. She patted the edge of the bed. “Come here. Come sit next to me.” She rested her hand on his thigh. “Sweetheart. I know you meant well. I know that, okay? It’s just that, you’re like a hurricane and I . . . Everything that’s in your path just gets swept along.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again. But he was wondering when he and Dee had drifted this far apart. Should they have gone for therapy, as she had wanted after James’s death? He had refused, unable to bear the thought of talking to a stranger about his beloved son. And Dee had fallen so silent in those early months after the funeral. Often he would come home to find her sitting quietly in James’s room, looking out the window. Something twisted in his gut then, but when he tried to ask her about her day and whether she’d left the house, she would smile that strange new smile and look away.

  But that was years ago, David thought. Slowly, it seemed as if she had found her way back—volunteering again at the Rape Crisis Center, resuming her activities for the League of Women Voters, working alongside him in the yard. And yet it was true—he had lost the laughing, irreverent woman he’d fallen in love with. That Dee was gone, replaced by the woman who was sitting beside him, telling him that she wanted her life back. That he would have to relinquish Anton after all. David’s stomach heaved at the thought.

  He felt claustrophobic, their large bedroom closing in on him. He took her hand, kissed it lightly, and mumbled, “I need some fresh air. I think I’ll go to the track and run a few laps. I shouldn’t be long.”

  “You’re not eating?”

  “You go ahead,” he said, not meeting her eye. “I’ll grab something on my way back.”

  He forced himself not to notice the droop of her shoulders as she turned away from him. “As you wish,” she said.

  When David got home at nine, Anton and Delores were on the couch watching TV, Delores’s arm flung casually around the boy. David shook his head imperceptibly, unable to reconcile Dee’s resentful words earlier in the evening with the tableau of domesticity in front of him.

  “Hey, David,” Anton said, his eyes glued to the television set.

  “Hey, buddy. How was your evening?”

  “Fine.”

  Delores, he noticed, had not bothered to so much as acknowledge his presence. He stood around uselessly for another moment and then headed for the shower.

  When he walked into their bedroom a half hour later, Delores was gathering her pillows. “What’re you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight,” she said. “I want to watch some TV and don’t want to keep you up.”

  “I don’t mind. Tomorrow’s Saturday—”

  “—and you have the pancake-breakfast fund-raiser,” she interrupted. “You have to be at St. Michael’s by eight, remember?”

  He moved toward her and put his hands on her shoulders, searching her face. “How do you do it, Dee? How—?”

  “Do what?”

  “Watch out for me even when you’re mad at me?” He bowed his head. “I . . . You’re the most important thing in my life, Dee. If you don’t know that by now, I don’t know what . . .” He felt the tears roll down his cheeks and brushed them away roughly.

  “David. Calm down. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. Okay? But please. Just for tonight I need a good night’s sleep.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll wake you in the morning. Now get some rest.”

  Alone in bed, he thought back on what had just happened, what he’d just said. It was true. Dee was the most important thing in his life. Between her and Anton, it wasn’t even close.

  But then something churned inside him. Why should he have to choose? Most men didn’t have to decide between their children and their wives. But Anton was not his blood. And therein lay the rub.

  He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his mind. Control yourself, he scolded himself. Nothing’s been decided yet. Maybe Dee will come around. She cares about Anton. You know that. Now try and sleep.

  But throughout the night, his hand kept feeling the empty place in the bed where Dee ought to have been.

  Delores continued to sleep in the guest bedroom into the following week. Each night they waited until Anton went to his room and then said a perfunctory good night to each other. David knew he was being punished, but some instinct told him not to push Dee, to give her the time she needed to figure out whether she could imagine a permanent future with Anton. And yet, with each passing day, his anxiety and anger grew. Dee was holding not just him hostage but Anton, too.

  And there was the other thing. If Dee refused to keep Anton and the boy was returned to the foster system, what would stop Juanita Vesper from changing her mind and claiming him? And if that were to happen, how long before she told her son or someone else about that strange nocturnal meeting with Anton’s foster dad? Without meaning to, Dee was putting him in jeopardy. Hell, he could face criminal charges for what he’d done.

  David rose from his armchair and went into the kitchen, where Delores was enjoying a cup of herbal tea. Anton was at a sleepover at Brad’s, and the house felt uncharacteristically quiet for a Friday evening. “We need to talk,” he said quietly, pulling up a chair across from her.

  “I know.”

  “It’s been a week—”

  “I know.” She stared into her cup for a moment, and when she looked up, her eyes were red. “What would you like to do, David? Do you want—I mean, should we seek permanent custody or something?”

  He sat still, afraid to believe what he was hearing. “What do you want?” he asked carefully.

  She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I want you to stop moping around like I’ve just killed your pet hamster.”

  “Dee. You’re the one who’s been acting strange. You’re the one who’s been mad at me, and I don’t even know what for.”

  She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. “David. Please don’t. This is not about us anymore. We have a young boy we’re responsible for.”

  When he spoke, he despised himself for the eagerness he heard in his voice. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. That we don’t have a choice. We can’t have Anton go from foster home to foster home.”

  “No, of course not. That would be cruel.” She looked away for a moment, then nodded as if she’d resolved something. “Okay. I guess we’re going through with this.”

  But he was suddenly panicked. This was not how he’d envisioned it, this grim, non-joyous acceptance of their new reality. “Dee,” he said urgently, “I need to be sure. Are you going to be okay if this . . . if, you know, we get permanent custody?”

  “I think so. I mean, nothing can replace . . . I mean, James was—James.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “Yes. No. Yes. Anton is not James. He never will be. And we should never do it for that reason.” He tensed, waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent. Finally, at long last, she said, “How the hell are we going to break this news to poor Anton?”

  His body went slack with relief. “Don’t you worry,” he said gruffly. “We’ll figure out a way.”

  “Don’t do it yet, David. Maybe the woman will still change her mind.”

  HE WAITED UNTIL Sunday afternoon to ask Anton if he wanted to run down to the hardware store with him. The boy, who was lying on the couch, looked up from his copy of The Giver and yawned. “Nah. I’m okay.”

  “Oh, come on,” David said. “You’re getting a little potbelly from lying around. You need the exercise.”

  Anton gave him that unbearable preteen look that David and Delores were beginning to despise. “How’s riding in the car exercise?” he drawled.

  The boy looked so smug that David laughed. He strode toward the couch and yanked the book out of Anton’s hands and threw it on the coffee table. “Come on, sport,” he said. “I need your help carrying the lumber home. And there’s
an Izzy’s ice cream cone waiting for you somewhere.”

  “Izzy’s,” Anton squealed as he rolled off the couch. “Why didn’t you say that?” He hurried off to the bedroom to put on his shoes.

  David rolled his eyes at Delores. “He’s the most easily corruptible kid in town. All you have to do is bribe him with ice cream.”

  She smiled, but he could see that she was worried. “You’re not going to tell him today, are you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll play it by ear. We don’t have too much time to begin the paperwork.”

  “It all seems to be happening so fast.”

  He could hear Anton making his way down the hallway, and without warning, David’s temper spiked. “We’ve waited a week already. Now, if you’re having second thoughts, we need to talk.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Well?”

  “Don’t you think we should sit down with him together? Instead of on the way to the ice cream parlor?”

  “Dee,” he said, emphasizing each word, “I don’t want to make this, like, some dire thing. So, go with us and we’ll tell him together.”

  “But it is a dire thing. The kid’s about to lose—” She broke off as Anton entered the living room. “Ready?” the boy asked.

  David held up his finger. “In just a minute, Anton. You wanna go get in the car?” He turned toward his wife. “So? Come with us.”

  “No. Maybe you’re right. It may be better to play this light.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Like I said, I’ll only do it if the moment presents itself. Okay?”